from Southport Pier to Brighton Pier, drifting towards my 50th year on this planet (Earth)

In praise of kit

Actually experiencing a walk – being in nature, seeing spectacular scenery, exercising – these things are all very well, but what really matters is having the right kit. I’m sure you’re wondering what kind of gear I wear for this epic journey. Wonder no more…

Boot-wise, I have a pair of Berghaus Explorer V, bought shortly before the start of the journey. (I note that they’re for ‘Performance Trekking’ – a hybrid of performance art and walking – perfect!) I’m hoping to stick to these throughout so that they become part of the record of my travels. This pair came in fetching black and grey, giving them a kind of Goth/industrial look that helps me fool myself that I’m still one of the cool kids. I had a pair of Karrimor KSB prior to these, which lasted over 10 years. They never fully recovered from a walk across the sands to Lindisfarne, made at the end of St Cuthbert’s Way on the day of Princess Diana’s funeral. (KSB owners please note: prolonged exposure to seawater at times of extreme national mourning may be detrimental to the fabric.) However both they and I kept going for a few more years, and I finally abandoned them in a bin at the back of the Old Inn, Gairloch, in about 2005. Not quite a Viking funeral, but not a bad place to end up…

Pretty much everything else I wear is from the Paramo range. Alta jacket, Cascada trousers and gaiters are my basic equipment, for most seasons of the year, low-level or high. I am a fan of Paramo – simply because I always feel comfortable in their stuff. I have walked all day in driving rain and remained dry and comfortable, while my membrane-shielded companions (unable to wean themselves from GoreTex and the like) have been soggy and miserable. The articulated designs mean that when I clamber up a steep bit the clothes aren’t dragging anywhere – I feel like a playful animal, secure in its own pelt. And there’s no flapping of stiff, sail-like material in the wind.

Some of my mates mock me for having a ‘heavy’ coat – so much so that I once took one of those hanging scale things with a hook on it along on a trip to the lakes, to prove that my coat weighed the same as the fleece-and-waterproof ensembles of my companions. You would think I was wearing a Victorian diving suit to hear them go on – and, yes, there are lighter waterproofs available. However the Paramo coats have been designed lighter since my first one, and based on experience I wear my stuff in all kinds of weathers and seldom feel the need to change or put layers on and off.

‘…and I’ll fight anyone who says this coat looks ‘heavy”

Perhaps, like Pringles, Paramo clothes contain an evil addictive substance. I would certainly like to have more – the shirts, fleeces and cargo trousers all look great – and, with their various roomy pockets, may help me achieve my ambition of being able to buy a dozen paperbacks and a couple of rare hardbacks in the dealers’ room at a science fiction convention and carry them all without needing to be encumbered with a bag of any kind (or alert Jennie to my profligacy). And I’m sure my journey towards Brighton will be enhanced by even more comfortable, breathable clothing (in black)…

All that remains is for them to bring out a workwear range and I will be able to close the gaps and be 100% Paramo, 24/7. Please consider a reversible Parameter tie as a fixture on my wish list.

The fact that we get Paramo and other outdoor stuff from an exceptionally nice shop helps keep the addiction going. Whalley Warm and Dry (WWD) is always a pleasure to visit – the staff are knowledgeable and enthusiastic, and it’s always friendly, with cups of tea offered and no sense that bizarre questions are unwelcome. I see they do online too – though online customers probably don’t get the cup of tea (?)

A couple of years ago we bought a tent from WWD (the Wynnster Venus in Furs model, now discontinued) – hopefully having its first outing next week – when it will be a sort of basecamp for my further travels through Shropshire. More then. Meanwhile, stay breathable…

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5 Responses

My wife brought me a book from the library which she thought that I would like. Its called ‘Broke Through Britain: One Man’s Penniless Odyssey’ and is about a walk from Plymouth to Edinburgh. I haven’t got far with it yet, but I thought that you might appreciate the first sentence of the preface: “When preparing for my penniless odyssey, I came across an Indian custom of going on pilgrimage at the age of 50.”
Haven’t discerned as yet the technical fabric brand of choice of the author, Peter Mortimer.

Excellent! Of course, I may have got mine out of the way before I’m 50, so I’ll be at a loose end…
The ‘penniless’ may have a limited choice of kit I suppose. Though as most ‘performance fabrics’ are simply some kind of nylon, it could be that a bunch of 70s-era slacks and shirts from a charity shop (with a string vest base layer) would do just as well as several hundred pounds worth of new stuff.

Interesting idea.
Also the static electricity generated could be fed into the national grid and probably save the planet into the bargain.
BTW – glad to see you acknowledge that the key thing about outdoor activities is the conspicuous expenditure on expensive apparel. Once the gear is bought, best not to ruin it by getting it muddy or wet. (This could be where the charity shop seventies crimpelene slacks come in – worn so that new cargo pants can be left at home.) Better yet – put all of your kit on and go to Ambleside or Keswick to buy more kit. (Very short hops between shops so not much danger that your Goretex salopettes will fade due to unnecessary contact with sunlight.)

Indeed. Though I wonder if ‘short hops between shops’ are even necessary any more – surely all buildings in Ambleside and Keswick are now outdoor clothing shops – like that Beatles film where they walk into separate front doors and it’s all one big house…